


i'll wait for you, i promise you, i will

by rinpanna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Kagehina NSFW Week 2021, Kagehina Typical Tenderness but cranked up x5000, M/M, Manga Spoilers if you squint, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Rimming, ofc bc it’s kghn, ofc bc it’s me, only the strongest will survive, this fic’s the definition of having to work for ur porn, u must brave heavy emotional reveals and intense conversation and more before u get to the rimjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/pseuds/rinpanna
Summary: “Are you gonna bring this to Italy?”Tobio flits his gaze to the item in question. It’s one of his Adlers’ jerseys—probably a less utilized one, if it was hanging in his closet rather than stuffed into his gym bag. Shouyou’s holding the shirt with his arms outstretched, his eyes raking up and down the front.“No.” Tobio looks back towards his desk, grabbing a final stack of books to top off the box.He’s reaching for the packing tape when Shouyou speaks up again, “Can I keep it?”kagehina NSFW week day 1 - uniform
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 22
Kudos: 163
Collections: Kagehina NSFW Week 2021





	i'll wait for you, i promise you, i will

**Author's Note:**

> i’m back with more kghn porn (ft. hinaslug) (: my friend sent me [this post](https://transformativeworks.tumblr.com/post/640287383326179328/loversandantiheroesme-im-just-gonna-write-a) earlier as i was editing this tho and i was like. how dare u call me out like this!!!! so yes, in reality, it’s plot with porn, but i promise BOTH are good & satisfying, so please enjoy!
> 
> big thanks to [JULZ](https://twitter.com/HQcharbon) for sticking around since the incipient (GRE word 4 u, julz <3) stages of this fic & for letting me wail in DMs abt my dilemmas & for giving me live-time feedback <3\. thanks as well to [em](https://twitter.com/Emlee_J) for her advice as well <3 i give you both 400 kithes (& an extra few for julz,,,, bc,,,, 😳👉👈)
> 
> title is from [lucky](https://open.spotify.com/track/0IktbUcnAGrvD03AWnz3Q8) by jason mraz and colbie caillat bc me thinks it's kagehina by the end of this fic <3

Tobio scowls as he unearths what has to be the fifth half-used notepad out of the drawer. How the hell did he accumulate so much _stuff_ the past few years? He continues shuffling through the drawer’s contents, putting everything he finds in vaguely organized piles on top of his desk.

Tobio’s only ever packed away his entire life once before—for his move from Miyagi to Tokyo—and he remembers that experience being temporarily stressful but relatively painless; he didn’t have much stuff in the first place. But packing to move to a different _continent_ on top of all the other things he’s had to take care of—like severing his contract with the Adlers, finishing paperwork for Ali Roma, and managing his VISA application—has been an entirely different beast.

He’s not going to bring much with him to Rome, but he’s spent the week packing up his apartment room by room, sorting his possessions by “Store in Miyagi” and “Bring to Italy,” and configuring the breakdown has been harder than he was expecting. But rediscovering the miscellaneous shit’s been the worst, too. Like, Tobio doesn’t want to throw away the five notepads—they’re perfectly usable!—but he also knows that he doesn’t need them. But if he packs them up and takes them back to Miyagi, he’ll just end up uncovering them again when he moves back to Japan, only to ultimately relive the exact dilemma he’s going through now. Tobio groans and drops his forehead onto the slim amount of space left uncovered on the desk.

Packing is the worst.

Tobio hears a crash behind him, and he shoots up, head whipping around to find its source. His eye twitches as his gaze lands on Shouyou across the room, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tobio inhales then exhales, attempting to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He’s a lot more on edge tonight than expected. Stupid packing. Tobio blinks, refocusing on the scene before him.

Shouyou’s bent over, picking up a box off of the floor with one hand. His other arm is raised in the air, preventing a different box from falling off the top shelf of the closet. Tobio watches Shouyou successfully maneuver himself so that both of the boxes end up on the bedside table. Shouyou sighs and looks up, their gazes meeting. His lips curl into a shy smile and his hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Shouyou says, eyes flitting to the headboard, “my grip slipped.”

“I don’t think there’s anything fragile in them; you’re fine,” Tobio replies, trying to not let any irritation slip into his voice. Shouyou’s not the target of his ire, after all, and no matter how on edge Tobio’s feeling, Shouyou doesn’t deserve to be his punching bag. 

Upon hearing his response, Shouyou’s smile widens, his teeth flashing. Tobio’s lips twitch up unwittingly—Shouyou is truly Tobio’s light in the abyss of endless boxes and material possessions.

Tobio feels bad that he couldn’t carve any time into his schedule to see Shouyou before the move except for this evening when he had to be packing. He knows he’s never been the most romantic, but this has to take the cake for the least exciting final date of the past century. They actually did have a really nice day together a week ago—splitting a fancy home-cooked meal and a bottle of wine at Tobio’s apartment—but Shouyou called a few days later and basically _demanded_ that they meet up another, final time, no matter what the activity. When Tobio had told him that he needed to pack, Shouyou jumped on the opportunity, offering his hand. Initially, Tobio refused—“ _I’m not gonna let you help me pack up my entire apartment, dumbass, that’s, like, willingly putting yourself through hell!_ ”—but Shouyou wouldn’t back down. Tobio eventually relented, only because he wanted to see Shouyou again once more, too. But he still feels bad about it all.

Besides, Shouyou’s staying the night, and Tobio fully plans on rewarding him for all the help.

But first, they have to finish the packing part. Tobio checks the clock on his wall and resists the urge to groan and faceplant on the desk again. They went through the living room together earlier that evening, but it seems they’ve only been chipping away at the bedroom for the past twenty minutes. Tobio had _thought_ that the bedroom would go the fastest—it’s just his desk, his dresser, and his clothes, after all—but he was severely mistaken. He turns back to the desk, glaring at the fifty thousand miscellaneous items scattered on its surface—he doesn’t even remember which pile means what anymore. Sighing, he moves to another drawer, hoping that once everything’s laid out before his eyes, it’ll be easier to sort.

He continues excavating his desk and eventually figures out a system that works, his piles expanded into three categories now of “Store in Miyagi,” “Bring to Italy,” and “Donate.” The donation pile is the biggest, and he has no idea who or where he can donate the things to, but he’s sure Shouyou would be happy to take the stack back to Osaka and find everything a new home. Tobio hates to burden Shouyou with the task, but he hates the idea of throwing away perfectly usable stuff even more. Shouyou would also kill him if he knew that Tobio was stressing so much about this kind of stuff, so Tobio’s gonna take advantage of Shouyou’s eager generosity, just this once.

Now standing, Tobio’s packing everything into boxes—Tetris style, not a gap between the items—when he hears Shouyou say, “Are you gonna bring this to Italy?”

Tobio flits his gaze to the item in question. It’s one of his Adlers’ jerseys—probably a less utilized one, if it was hanging in his closet rather than stuffed in his gym bag. Shouyou’s holding the shirt with his arms outstretched, his eyes raking up and down the front.

“No.” Tobio looks back towards his desk, grabbing a final stack of books to top off the box.

He’s reaching for the packing tape when Shouyou speaks up again, “Can I keep it?”

The _skrrrrrrp_ of tape fills the room as Tobio seals the box tight. “Why do you want it?” 

Another long pause. Tobio rolls another line of tape atop the box before looking up at Shouyou, his brows furrowed. Shouyou’s expression is unreadable, his eyes still pinned to the jersey. Probably sensing Tobio’s gaze, he glances over at Tobio. They regard each other for a beat before Shouyou looks back at the jersey. 

“Because it’ll remind me of you.” Tobio squints, head tilting to the side. Why does Shouyou need to be reminded of him when they’ve already sorted out long distance communication stuff?

“But we’ve already set up a calling schedule and stuff, dumbass. You’ll be hearing from me multiple times a week.” They only started dating once Shouyou returned from Brazil, so they’ve never had to deal with being apart as boyfriends. Tobio became very aware of this fact as soon as he unofficially settled the contract with Ali Roma, and he and Shouyou spent hours talking about how they would handle the transition and the new reality. On top of the time difference, they’re both professional athletes, so finding free pockets in their time that overlapped was difficult. It’s going to be a lot of late nights for Tobio and early mornings for Shouyou in order for them to ensure that they’re keeping in touch every week, but relationships are all about compromise. And besides, talking to Shouyou could never feel like a burden, even if Tobio has to stay up a little past his usual bedtime for it to happen.

Shouyou’s face twists into a slight pout. “Then because you don’t need it.”

Tobio sighs. He doesn’t know why Shouyou’s being difficult, but they need to get back to packing. “But neither do you.”

Tobio knows immediately that he’s said the wrong words when the mood in the room palpably drops. Shouyou’s stance doesn’t really change so much as _sinks_ , his shoulders sloping down like a weight’s been dropped on his back. A foreboding tingle climbs up Tobio’s spine, leaving prickles of discomfort under his skin. 

The silence is deafening, and Tobio’s about to fill it himself when Shouyou asks, “So is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that.” Tobio’s hands fiddle with the tape dispenser, rubbing the smooth, plastic cartridge between his thumb and pointer finger. “You can have it.” He would’ve ultimately put the jersey in the “Store in Miyagi” pile, anyways. 

Shouyou tucks his elbows in to bring the jersey closer and stares down at it wordlessly, his grip light against the fabric. It seems like Tobio’s response did nothing to take the weight off of his shoulders—in fact, the atmosphere of the room feels even _more_ oppressive than before, Shouyou’s gaze hollow as he eyes the _20_ on the front. Tobio’s heart clenches at the sight.

“Why are you being weird, dumbass?” Tobio tries, hoping the familiar nickname will snap Shouyou out of whatever’s running through his mind. But instead, Shouyou himself snaps, his fists tightening around the collar.

“Because you’re leaving in two days, asshole!” The words cut through the air and lodge into Tobio’s chest. His irritation about packing completely fades as he looks—really _looks_ —at Shouyou. 

Shouyou doesn’t elaborate on his statement, his teeth clenched so tightly that Tobio can see his jaw muscle twitching. His eyes are sharper now—the energy of his words seeping into his gaze—but there’s still an empty tinge to them that causes a discomfiting thrum in Tobio’s chest. Shouyou breathes in and out slowly, relaxing his shoulders, but his knuckles still gleam white across the room.

Tobio puts the tape down and walks over to where he’s standing. Closer up, Shouyou’s troubled mood is even more prominent, tension radiating off of his expression in steady waves.

Something Tobio’s learned from being around Shouyou for so long is that Shouyou’s incapable of keeping his feelings off of his face; they run along his features like they’re water in the channels of a river. More often than not, he’s like sand: his joy or excitement or awe slipping through easily, words tumbling off his tongue like a waterfall in tandem. But when his emotions are more unsavory, his lips and countenance become clay—nearly impermeable. Luckily, Tobio’s had years of practice detecting where the water breaches, the areas where they can’t help but leak out, where the lines under Shouyou’s eyes and the divot between his brows fills drop by drop. And unfortunately this time, Tobio was so focused on the move that he hadn’t noticed Shouyou’s cracks until they’d fractured.

Tobio still doesn’t quite understand what Shouyou’s feeling, or why he’s feeling whatever it is right now. So he brings his hands up and cups Shouyou’s fists—still gripping the jersey—in his palms. He sweeps his thumbs slowly over his knuckles.

“What’s going on, Shouyou?” 

Shouyou makes a strangled noise, dropping his arms so that they’re at his sides, jersey now clenched in only one fist. Tobio’s hands slip off and fall with Shouyou’s, and Tobio ignores the twinge of sadness in his stomach. Shouyou glares at the space above him, like he wants to snatch his words out of the air and shove them back down his throat.

“I’m fine.” Tobio raises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed by the lie. Shouyou sighs, grip tightening around the jersey. “Really. You’re the one moving half-way across the globe soon; don’t worry about me.” 

Tobio walks a step closer, taking Shouyou’s free hand in his own. “Not letting me know what’s going on is going to worry me more.”

Shouyou glances up at him then back to the floor, his lashes fluttering delicately against his cheeks. He shifts their hands so that their fingers are now laced together, wrists facing out, but remains silent. Tobio stares at his features for a few moments, waiting, and notes the nearly imperceptible tremble at the corners of his lips. 

After more of the same silence, Tobio sighs, squeezing his fingers against Shouyou’s. “Dumbass, I can’t read your mind,” he says, voice soft.

Shouyou’s lips twist into a pout. “You don’t need another reason to be stressed.”

Tobio frowns in disagreement, a spark of irritation flitting under his skin. Shouyou’s so bad at putting himself first sometimes, and their conversations that lead back to the long standing issue are so “unstoppable force” Tobio versus “immovable object” Shouyou that the mere notion of it always ruffles his feathers.

“Your feelings matter, too, Shouyou,” Tobio says, voice firm. He gives his hand another squeeze. “Talk to me.” He pauses a beat before adding, “Please.”

Shouyou seems to break at that. His shoulders slump in a manner that’s less weighted and more resigned, his fingers continuing to fidget with jersey at his side. He keeps his gaze on the floor as he says, voice nearly a whisper, “We’ve only been dating for six months. And while obviously there’s a lot more to our history than that, and I know that you love me and I love you, it’s just...” Shouyou looks up. His brown eyes glow in the low light of the bedroom, tinged with melancholy. Tobio’s heart aches at the sight.

“It feels like we’ve just gotten started, you know?” He grimaces, eyebrows furrowing. “And I _know_ I’m being a hypocrite because I’m the one who went to Brazil for two years and left you here—though, to be fair, we weren’t dating at the time, but _anyways—_ ” Shouyou sighs. “I’m just. I knew I was signing up for this long distance thing considering how we’re both pro now and how going pro works, so I feel like I can’t be upset about it now that it’s actually happening but...” Shouyou bites his lip, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You’re leaving. And it feels like I just got you back.”

Tobio takes a moment to sort through Shouyou’s whirlwind of words; there’s often some kind of deeper meaning in their subtext that Tobio struggles to grasp when only hearing them on the first pass. His focus, though, immediately zones in on a certain bit—Tobio feels his chest clench when the words _I can’t be upset about it_ playback through his mind. _Of course_ the dumbass is trying to reason himself out of his feelings again. Shouyou always looks at things so rationally, tries so hard not to let his feelings cloud his judgement that he forgets that feelings are an important piece of the puzzle in the first place.

Tobio can tell that Shouyou’s still holding something back, though. But if they keep talking, Tobio’s sure he can loosen the self-imposed vise around his throat, get him to spill the words trapped in his lungs.

“My contract is only for a year—”

Shouyou’s eyes bug out, and he shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, no, no, do _not_ say what I think you’re gonna say. You absolutely can _not_ build your career around me being a needy, whiny baby.”

Tobio sighs, patience wearing thin. “Having thoughts and feelings doesn’t make you a baby, dumbass!” He levels Shouyou with what he hopes is a gentle yet stern glare. “But if you don’t _tell_ me everything that’s going on in your brain, we can’t work it out.”

Shouyou huffs and rips his hand from Tobio’s to cross his arms. “ _You’re_ the one telling _me_ to use my words? Like you’re the one to talk!” The words leave his mouth, and Shouyou sucks in a sharp breath, as though trying to pull them back down his throat. He stands there, eyes blown wide in shock.

Tobio’s jaw clenches and he breathes in, trying to calm the torrent building under his skin that threatens his already tenuous patience. He _knows_ that Shouyou’s lashing out defensively—he wouldn’t look so broken right now otherwise. But this conversation still hasn’t gone in the direction yet that would _get_ Shouyou to say what he might not want to but desperately needs to say right now. Tobio exhales, racking his brain for how to get them back on the right track.

“Then what do you want me to say?” It comes out with more bite than Tobio was intending.

Shouyou’s shoulders tense, and his eyes make their way back to the floorboards. Tobio has to wait a few beats before Shouyou says, voice strangely level. “Did you ever think about me when I was in Brazil?”

Tobio’s brows furrow deeper. Of all things, this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting Shouyou to ask. He answers honestly, “Of course, dumbass. All the time.”

Shouyou shifts his gaze to one of his hands resting on his bicep, his pointer finger picking intently at a hangnail on the side of his thumb. “But we barely talked.”

“That’s because you barely talked to anyone while you were abroad.” Tobio knows that it wasn’t personal because, after his first few attempts of messaging Shouyou came back with clipped answers or days later, he reached out to Yachi to ask if she was experiencing the same. She was. As the months passed, Tobio learned one way or another from their friends that Shouyou didn’t seem to be talking much to any of them. He had always chalked his lack of communication up to busyness, but maybe Tobio was also just used to—resigned to—waiting for Shouyou by that point. 

Shouyou huffs, his shoulders rising and falling sharply. Tobio waits, but no words follow. 

Shouyou’s already brought up this much, though; Tobio just needs to push him a bit further. Like pulling teeth, one out at a time. So Tobio asks a question of his own, “Did you think about me while you were in Brazil?”

Shouyou keeps picking at his nails. “How could I _not_?”

He doesn’t continue.

“So this time, we won’t just think about each other. We’ll call and text and stream matches together.” Tobio flicks his gaze to the ceiling in thought. “It’s not like I’ll know anyone well in Rome for a while. You’re probably gonna get sick of me bothering you all the time after the first month.” Tobio snorts, a small smile curling on his lips. He’s not great with jokes, but he tried; Shouyou’s well-timed quips always help lighten the mood, after all.

But Shouyou instead looks like one of those plastic toys that just got its crank turned, his demeanor shifting entirely from sour to alert. The next words tumble quickly out of his lips, “No! I won’t! Unless I’m at practice, I’ll always be around to talk if you need to.”

Tobio squints in confusion. Everything Shouyou’s saying and doing is connected. But _how_? Tobio blinks, focusing back on the present. He tests something. “And if you need to talk? Will you reach out to me first?”

Shouyou hesitates a beat too long. “Of course.”

“Shouyou...” A pressure begins to build beneath his temples, so Tobio focuses on regulating his breath, calming his heart. He doesn’t know if expressing his exasperation will cause Shouyou to open up or shut down, but his bets are on the latter. He’s so close. Just one more push. And if Shouyou won’t break with a final shove, then Tobio will lay off. Forcing it out will just ultimately piss them both off, and Tobio doesn’t want their last night before he leaves to end with a fight.

“I’m leaving soon for a while,” Tobio starts, his voice as even as he can manage. “I don’t want anything to be left unsaid between us before I go. So please, Shouyou, talk to me.” Shouyou looks up at him, and Tobio watches something shift behind his eyes as their gazes lock. Tobio blinks, his features softening. “I’m here.” He places his hand on Shouyou’s tricep, squeezing gently. 

At this, Shouyou seems to finally break. A breath rushes from his lungs, shoulders dropping in tandem. He uncrosses his arms and reaches up to grip at Tobio’s forearm. Tobio’s grip slackens and he lets his hand fall, Shouyou’s sliding off with it; their fingers catch and intertwine at the end. Shouyou’s gaze lingers on the space between them, head down.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Shouyou starts, voice unsteady. “I’ve known for _months_ that you’re leaving. And I _want_ you to go—the rest of the world deserves to see you play, you know?” He bites his lip, pausing. Tobio gives his hand a light squeeze.

“But I just have no clue what’s gonna happen with us.” Shouyou’s face pinches inwards. “And I know we’re gonna try our best to stay in touch but... it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not gonna be in Japan anymore, not gonna be a two hour train ride away. I guess I’m just worried about a lot of things.” Shouyou swallows, then glances up. 

“But, mostly, I’m just going to miss you.”

 _I’m just going to miss you._ The words echo through Tobio’s mind, threading together all the disjointed pieces Shouyou has laid out on the table. 

_You’re leaving. And it feels like I just got you back._

_Did you ever think about me when I was in Brazil?_

_I’ll always be around to talk if you need to._

Shouyou is _afraid_ , Tobio realizes. Afraid of them drifting apart again, like the last time that they were on opposite ends of the world. Afraid of losing Tobio once he’s out of his sight, no longer within reach. And Tobio thinks that maybe, just maybe, Shouyou’s projecting a bit of his own abroad experience onto him.

Instinctively, Tobio pulls Shouyou forward and crushes him into his chest. A wave of emotions crests and breaks under his skin, running through his veins and saturating his bones. Shouyou immediately returns the embrace, his arms clinging to Tobio like roots.

A memory wells up in the tide: the time that Shouyou opened up about his first few lonely months in Brazil. The conversation actually happened after a night similar to this one—with Tobio having to coax Shouyou’s feelings out of him bit by bit until he finally folded completely. Shouyou talked about the sporadic texts, the lack of phone calls; the reason he never reached out was exactly _because_ he was so lonely. Lonely on the other side of the world, knowing exactly how to bridge the gap between them but wavering, his grasp on their relationship precarious. And now he was worried that Tobio might end up feeling—and doing—the same.

 _Fuck_. Tobio feels like he’s drowning, his heart on the verge of bursting. He’s been so busy and frustrated with getting his shit together before moving that he hasn’t really had time to dwell on his own feelings. Even worse, he didn’t really consider how _Shouyou_ would react to his move, not that Shouyou before now ever gave him any indication to worry. But still, they’re _boyfriends,_ and Tobio didn’t think to ask about Shouyou’s feelings even _once_ on the matter. His ribcage continues to fill with water, a torrent of guilt and heartache and everything under the sun flowing up inside him. He forces himself to speak before the tide stretches too high and seals off his throat.

“I’ll miss you, too. And I’m sorry I haven’t said anything earlier.” Shouyou’s arms tighten around his waist, but he says nothing. They stand there a few more moments, only the sound of their breaths filling the empty air.

Holding Shouyou—feeling his skin and his breath and his warmth—helps calm the flood within Tobio, reminds him that, while he fucked up _bad_ , Shouyou is still here. He stops feeling so much as his brain comes back online, whirring with a desire to _fix_ ; he knows he can’t assuage all of Shouyou’s worries in one night, but damn, if he isn’t going to try.

What does Shouyou need right now?

A flicker of an idea sparks in his mind, and his eyes fly open (when had they even closed?). Tobio takes a half-step back; Shouyou follows, but Tobio keeps his arms around his back, ensuring he doesn’t stray too far. Shouyou blinks up at him, his gaze still cloudy but much less fractured. Tobio speaks before he can even think it through:

“I’ll show you.” Shouyou’s head cocks to the side, eyebrows furrowing just the slightest.

“Show me what?”

“I’ll show you how much I’ll miss you.” Tobio guides them to the edge of the bed, Shouyou still wrapped up in his arms. He plunges his weight forward, and Shouyou lets out a squawk as they fall back on the mattress.

“Tobio, what are you doing?” Shouyou asks as Tobio presses a light kiss on the side of his face. The spark in Tobio’s mind has erupted into a flame, the water throughout his body burned away by determination.

“I told you, dumbass, I’m showing you how much I’m gonna miss you. Move up on the bed.” His gaze flickers to the ceiling. “Please,” he tacks on.

Shouyou huffs a breath but complies, wiggling out from beneath Tobio and reclining slightly amongst the pillows at the headboard. “But what does that _mean_ , Bakagayama?”

Tobio quickly hops off the bed and shuts off the overhead lights. The room’s now only lit by what filters through the window—a dim yellow veil of the artificial lights that shroud the city. He climbs back onto the mattress and shuffles on his hands and knees over to Shouyou. 

“You’ll see.” He sits down on Shouyou’s lap, and Shouyou’s eyes widen, his face flushing red. Before Shouyou can reply, Tobio leans down and kisses him, his hand coming to cup Shouyou’s cheek. Eyes fluttering shut, Tobio basks in the warmth of their lips, the knot in his chest loosening as Shouyou kisses back. Shouyou’s arms wrap around Tobio’s back, hugging him closer.

Tobio pulls back for air, and he feels Shouyou’s lips chase him as he leans away. Diving back in, Tobio parts his lips this time. He lets his tongue drag slowly across the seam of Shouyou’s top lip, and Shouyou shudders, his jaw slackening. Tobio continues pressing short kisses against Shouyou’s lips, his other hand slipping under the hem of his shirt and running gently from his hips to his ribs. Shouyou shudders again, inhaling sharply, as Tobio’s thumb skims across his nipple before his hand trails back down again. Tobio smiles unwittingly into the kiss, and Shouyou snorts, causing Tobio’s lips to stretch even further. 

Tobio knows he’s procrastinating from his ultimate aim as he slides the hand on Shouyou’s face to around the back of his head, but he can’t help it. Kissing Shouyou is familiar; what he wants to do next is not. Tobio curls his fingers into the back of Shouyou’s head and tilts it back, causing Shouyou to groan. He coaxes Shouyou’s tongue into his mouth and sucks lightly; Shouyou’s grip tightens along his back. Once Tobio releases him, he gasps in surprise as Shouyou bites down gently on his bottom lip, tugging back with practiced ease.

An alarm goes off in Tobio’s head, ringing through every corner of his brain: Tobio needs to act soon, or Shouyou’s going to try and take control of the kiss. And tonight will be just about Shouyou, if Tobio has any say in it.

Prying himself away from Shouyou’s warmth, he leans back and shucks off his shirt, throwing it to some corner of the room. His fingertips tease underneath the hem of Shouyou’s shirt, partially to be coy, partially out of hesitance. Tobio thinks about what he wants to do next, and his chest flushes, the nerves beneath his skin sparking alight. He needs to show Shouyou how much he’s going to be missed, but more importantly, Shouyou needs to _understand_ how much he’s going to be missed. But, as came up earlier, Tobio isn’t great with words, and a sense of reluctance grips him, knowing what he wants to say. Is he even capable of stringing words together in a way that can help soothe Shouyou’s fears? Or will he fuck up somehow, his lack of eloquence only exacerabing them? 

Tobio glances up to Shouyou’s face, who’s watching him intently. He’s breathing hard, but his gaze holds no doubt or unease, only mild curiosity. If Tobio had left him in the dark for this long as teenagers, Shouyou would’ve been on him about it minutes ago, his eyes alight and indignant until he got his answer. But right now, Shouyou looks at Tobio silently, with a sense of complete and total trust. As though he can’t parse out specifically what’s going on in Tobio’s head, but he knows that there’s nothing to worry about, because it’s Tobio.

Tobio feels the sense of dread crushing his ribs and lungs loosen. Shouyou trusts him. The thought reminds Tobio that he trusts Shouyou back, trusts Shouyou to let him know if he ends up doing something wrong. But more importantly, Tobio remembers that he needs to trust _them_ —trust that he understands how to read Shouyou after all these years, trust that he himself can give him what he may not know he needs. 

Tobio takes a deep breath, then slides his hands up Shouyou’s chest, the shirt bunching where the fabric catches along the divot between his thumbs and pointer fingers. Shouyou raises his arms, and Tobio pulls the shirt off completely. He watches Shouyou shiver, his chest erupting in goosebumps, and smiles to himself—Shouyou’s always been so sensitive.

As he leans back in, Tobio reminds himself for a final time that this is _Shouyou_. He can take the leap of faith into the unknown, try to leave his perfectionist tendencies at the door, for Shouyou, because Shouyou deserves for him to at least try. Loves him for, not in spite of, his tenuous relationship with words.

Tobio hesitates for a final beat, gaze flicking down to take in Shouyou’s glossy lips, before kissing him again. He only stays for a moment, though, before he pulls back and says, “Your lips.” Tobio feels himself flush, his next words caught on the back of his throat. He breathes in, an attempt to calm his raging heartbeat. Thinking about doing something is always much harder than actually following through.

Shouyou’s head tilts to the side. “My lips?”

For Shouyou. He can keep going for Shouyou. “I’ll miss your lips.” Tobio brings a hand up to run along his jaw, his thumb dragging over Shouyou’s bottom lip. He sees out of his peripheral vision that Shouyou’s expression has shifted, but he keeps his gaze down and pushes out the next bit before he can lose his nerve, “They’re always very soft. And warm. And when you kiss me, I feel... special.” Blood rushes through Tobio’s veins again at the admission—words are _hard._ Shouyou’s lips purse for a moment, like they’re avoiding the attention, before relaxing and parting slightly. Tobio instinctively kisses them again.

“Even if the stupidest things come out of them sometimes,” he says, lips still on Shouyou’s. 

Shouyou laughs. “Hey!”

Before he can say anything more, Tobio leans in again, sealing his mouth shut. He lets this kiss linger as a different warmth mixes through his veins upon hearing Shouyou’s laughter. The airy sound rings through his mind, reassuring like a summer breeze. 

With a surge of confidence, Tobio moves up and kisses the corner of Shouyou’s right eye, then his left. His hands move to rest higher on Shouyou’s head, thumbs skimming over his thick eyelashes, causing them to flutter. When they open fully again, Tobio takes a moment to just _look_ , to burn their intricacies into the folds of his mind. They’re a chocolate brown, which most people find dull, but they swirl like galaxies—with tints and tones of caramel, amber, and gold. Tobio finds them mesmerizing. Darker around the center, lighter along the rim. Tobio feels his hands warm beneath Shouyou’s touch as Shouyou’s pupils dilate, just the slightest.

“I’ll miss your eyes,” Tobio says. Hints of embarrassment still prickle under his skin, but less overwhelmingly compared to before. He lets whatever thoughts well up in mind spill out of his lips before he can overthink them. “The way that you look at me in the mornings. How they look when you’re looking at me from the other side of the net—hell, how they do that when we’re on the same side, too.” The corner of Tobio’s lips tug into a small smile. “The way that they light up when you’re yelling about something you're passionate about, whether it’s a random fun fact you found on the internet or volleyball related or whatever.” Shouyou’s cheeks color and his gaze flits to the side. Tobio feels his jaw tighten for a moment under his palms. He squeezes his cheeks, drawing Shouyou’s attention back to him. When their eyes lock once more, a rush runs through Tobio’s veins, collecting in his heart. Unfortunately, a fresh wave of embarrassment wells up with it, causing Tobio to hesitate a beat and drop his voice to a whisper when he says:

“They really are beautiful.” 

Shouyou’s face scrunches inward; his eyes narrow and the elaborate brown retinas disappear. Tobio feels something uneasy coil in the pit of his stomach.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tobio asks quietly, his confidence dwindling.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Shouyou brings hand up to Tobio’s face, swiping a thumb over his cheek. “It’s just... you look a bit distressed. Do _you_ want to stop?”

Tobio shakes his head. “Words are hard,” he chuckles softly, and Shouyou smiles. “But I’m trying.” Because Tobio wants to say them, and Shouyou needs to hear them.

“I know.” Shouyou rubs his thumb against Tobio’s cheek once more before dropping his hand back to the mattress. “You’re doing great.”

Tobio snorts lightly at the irony— _he’s_ supposed to be comforting _Shouyou_ , not the other way around. Determined to get back on track and stay there, he moves his hand up to card through Shouyou’s locks, the orange curls threading nearly through his fingers.

“I’ll miss your hair. It’s different from mine, not silky but still soft?” Tobio cocks his head. “It’s always confused me how that works.” Shouyou huffs a breath, rolling his eyes.

Tobio thinks for a few moments, fingers rubbing against Shouyou’s scalp. They almost look like a field of wheat in the wind, with how the light from outside ripples across the strands as Tobio’s hand smooths them back. “Sometimes, in the right light—whether outside or under stadium lights or even just sitting at the dining room table—your hair glows so bright, it feels like I’m looking into the sun.” He chuckles, confused by his own thoughts. “Not really sure where I was going with that, but it’s a good thing.” Before he can gauge Shouyou’s reaction, Tobio leans forward, pressing a kiss to his hairline. He lets his lips linger, inhaling deeply. Shouyou’s familiar scent washes over him, flowing into his lungs and setting off fireworks.

Pulling back a centimeter, Tobio says, “Your hair always smells like home.” Tobio hovers a moment and swallows, but his mouth feels dry. The words are coming easier now, but instead of feeling embarrassed off the bat, he says aloud something out of a bad romance novel, and _then_ has the capacity to feel flustered about it. Making the conscious choice to not dwell on it, he starts kissing down the side of Shouyou’s face.

The kisses are light and touch on everything Tobio hasn’t talked about—his apple cheeks, his faint constellation of freckles, his perfect button nose, his impeccable jaw line. Tobio continues peppering them down his neck, in the divot between his collar bones, along the expanse of his left clavicle. Shouyou stays silent, but Tobio can feel how hot his skin has grown with every kiss.

Tobio reaches the end of his collarbone and is struck with a sudden curiosity. He scoots back on the bed and leans forward, pressing his ear to Shouyou’s chest. His heart is thumping rapidly. The rhythmic beat jolts even faster when Tobio brings a hand to his shoulder; he runs his palm down the expanse of Shouyou’s deltoid, tricep, bicep, forearm, until he finally reaches his hand. Turning his eyes back toward Shouyou’s chest, Tobio presses his lips to his pec, right above his heart. Then he sits back on his heels between Shouyou’s legs, finds Shouyou’s other hand, and brings them both up to eye level.

For a second, Tobio just stares, admiring the way his hands practically engulf Shouyou’s—they’re broad, but they just look so tiny in Tobio’s calloused grip. Tobio brings them forward, pressing a kiss to the tips of his fingers on both hands. 

Flipping his own palms over, Tobio catches his fingers between Shouyou’s, squeezing the pads of his fingers into Shouyou’s knuckles. Shouyou’s hands shift around before they squeeze back, now more comfortably lodged between Tobio’s.

“I’ll miss your hands. They’re small—” 

Shouyou clicks his tongue. “Don’t hurt their feelings.”

Tobio sighs, rolling his eyes. He moves their joint hands forward to lightly bonk Shouyou on the head. Shouyou’s nose scrunches as Tobio says, “You didn’t let me finish, dumbass.” He pulls their hands back to rest in the space between them. “They’re small, but they’re so strong. They control the ball so well.” Tobio leans forward, trying to drive home his praise. “Powerful serves and sets and spikes. As you’d put it, _pow_ and _fwoosh_ and _bam_ , you know?” He makes sure to say the sound effects like a robot with no inflection. Shouyou laughs, squeezing Tobio’s palms. Tobio smiles, face warming.

“Touching other people something wasn’t something I did a lot as a kid,” Tobio admits. “Other than my grandpa when I was younger, my family just wasn’t touchy. When he died...” Tobio swallows. He’s never really talked to anyone about the emotional aftermath of Kazuyo dying, not even Shouyou. It brings up bad memories—back to the time when Tobio was angry and sad and burning. But it’s important for Shouyou to know—critical for him to understand just how important he was and has been since. So Tobio continues:

“When he died, I felt lost. For a lot of reasons, of course, but not having anyone that I could touch was really not great for my mental health or other relationships. You remember 3rd year Kitagawa Daiichi Tobio, I’m sure.” Shouyou nods, his gaze dripping with understanding. 

“But when I got to Karasuno, grabbing your hair or wrestling with you when you were being stupid was so easy.”

Shouyou snickers. “That’s because your love language is violence.”

Tobio huffs, indignant. “Shut up. What I’m trying to say is that touching is never something I had to think about, with you. Because there’s always been this...” Tobio’s eyes narrow, and he squeezes Shouyou’s palms, searching for the right words. His grip relaxes, and then Shouyou squeezes for a beat, his hold firm but calming. Something in Tobio’s head clicks. “Trust. I never had to worry about touch with you, because I knew that even if you dodged, you’d never really leave for real.” Okay, even that was a bit too cheesy despite the situation. Desperate to pop the sudden bubble of awkwardness in his chest, Tobio diverts. He raises an eyebrow, his lips flattening into a line. “And then you decided to move halfway across the globe without asking me about it first.”

Shouyou groans, and Tobio bites back a smile, still trying to play up the disappointed act. “I’m _sorry_ , okay? I’ve already apologized, like, five thousand times. And reminder that you never told me about V.League. Apologize back.”

“Yeah, but only after I told you that I was sad about it when we were _dating_ three and a half years later.” Shouyou’s cheeks fill up with air that he releases in a puff, brow furrowing. “And you know I’m sorry already, too.” Tobio untwines their hands and cups Shouyou’s fingers in his palms again. He brings one forward, kissing his knuckles.

“It’s okay, though—I knew you’d be back.” Shouyou had promises to fulfill, after all. Of course, their shared promise of meeting—and beating—Tobio on the same level. But privately, Tobio was also hoping that their promise would be fulfilled in tandem with Kazuyo’s: Shouyou coming back to Japan and proving himself to be the “someone stronger” that Tobio always knew he would be one day. Their first match against each other—Shouyou as a Black Jackal, Tobio as an Adler—surpassed both of Tobio’s expectations. 

Shouyou blows a raspberry. “Then stop bullying me about it!” Tobio laughs, and a wave of warmth spreads throughout his veins when Shouyou follows. 

When the giggles fade, Tobio’s lips stay stretched in a closed-mouth smile. The night has evolved into a lot more silliness than Tobio had initially intended—he was supposed to ravish Shouyou in _tender_ love and attention—but he shouldn’t have expected such austerity between the two of them. Part of what makes their relationship so wonderful is how easy things usually are between them, full of casual touches and banter and laughter. While Tobio _is_ still trying to make a point, things don't have to be so calculated for his message to get across, he supposes. 

Tobio places Shouyou’s hands on the mattress and scooches down on the bed. He grabs Shouyou’s ankles and _yanks_ , and Shouyou squawks as he’s pulled into a more reclined position atop the pillows. Smirking, Tobio shuffles forward and wraps his hands around Shouyou’s waist, thumbs skimming the outer lines of his abs. He leans forward and leaves a sloppy, wet kiss above Shouyou’s belly button. He continues this pattern at random along Shouyou’s stomach, and Shouyou squirms under his grasp.

“Eww, Tobio, stop, it tickles!” His palm finds Tobio’s forehead, and Shouyou pushes his head back. Tobio swerves his head to the side and escapes Shouyou’s force, planting another kiss under his navel. He plants his chin where he left his first kiss, eyes gazing up at Shouyou.

“I’ll miss these stupid abs. I literally have seen naked men in locker rooms because of volleyball my whole life, and these—” Tobio jams a finger into one of them, scowling, “—are the only ones that have ever made me _feel things_.”

Shouyou’s pout morphs into a smirk. “Oh? Tell me more about these _things_ you _feel_ , Kageyama-kun.” 

Tobio levels him with a glare. They stare at each other for a few more moments, Shouyou wiggling his eyebrows, when Tobio flicks his gaze back down at Shouyou’s abs.

“No.” Before Shouyou can react, Tobio lifts his chin up and licks a long stripe from Shouyou’s belly button to just under his sternum. Shouyou squawks and pushes his face away again, but the damage is done. Tobio grins complacently as Shouyou wiggles around in his grip.

“You’re gross. Yuckyama.” Shouyou lightly karate chops Tobio on the part of his hair. Tobio ignores him and scoots a bit further down the bed. His hands slide to the waistband of Shouyou’s pants, fingers teasing at the seam. Eyebrows raised, he looks up at Shouyou, who nods, cheeks flushing. Shouyou shuffles his feet closer to his body and pushes his hips up. Tobio slides his pants and boxers down in one go; Shouyou’s dick springs free as Tobio slips the garments down his legs. With a final tug past his feet, Tobio flings the clothes to the side of the bed and looks down at Shouyou’s naked form. He grips the back of his calves and pulls back, forcing Shouyou’s legs to lie flat on the bed so he can shuffle back in between them.

Tobio takes Shouyou’s nearly hard dick in his hand, stroking up and down lightly a couple of times. Shouyou hisses at the sudden attention, eyes snapping shut and hands gripping at the sheets. Once Tobio’s satisfied, he leans down, pressing a kiss to its base. A clump of coarse hair tickles his nose. 

Sitting back on his heels, Tobio smirks. “Do I need to say why I’ll miss this?”

Shouyou peaks open his eyes, lips forming a pudgy pout. “C’mon, Kageyama-kun, Shouyou Junior deserves attention, too.” 

Tobio lets out a noise of disgust as Shouyou giggles. “Fine. But only if you never call your dick “Shouyou Junior” ever again.”

“How about “The Little Giant,” then?” 

Tobio’s refocused his attention to Shouyou’s lower half, but he can just _hear_ the shit-eating grin in Shouyou’s words. He squeezes his dick in his hand. “Stop talking.” He moves his hand up and strokes his thumb along the underside of Shouyou’s head before Shouyou can say something stupid in response. He gasps instead, and Tobio grins cheekily as he thinks of what to say next.

He’s always liked Shouyou’s dick. It’s long, but not too long, and thick, but not too thick—very proportionate to Shouyou’s body. Not that Tobio’s looked at or touched any other dicks other than his own, but he still genuinely thinks that Shouyou won in this arena of the gene pool. Tobio rubs a thumb around Shouyou’s slit, pressing down slightly, and Shouyou keens, back arching off the mattress. He spreads the precome lower as his other hand creeps up Shouyou’s stomach, eventually landing on a nipple. Shouyou sucks in a sharp breath as Tobio pinches the bud between his thumb and pointer finger, rolling lightly. 

“I’ll miss your...” Tobio’s eyebrows furrow. Does it sound disingenuous to say aloud _I’ll miss your dick?_

Shouyou huffs a laugh. “Don’t leave him hanging, Tobiooo.”

Tobio glares at him. “I’ll miss your _dick_ because I like how it makes me feel. I like how it makes _you_ feel.” He emphasizes his point by thumbing under his head again, and Shouyou’s feet dig into the mattress behind him. “Before you, I didn’t really think much about sex. But in the past six months, you’ve been giving me the hormonal teenage boy phase that I never had in high school.” Shouyou giggles at that, and Tobio feels the corners of his own lips tug up as well. 

“I’m just _that_ irresistible, Kageyama-kun.” Tobio looks up, and Shouyou winks. 

Tobio shrugs, face flushing. “You are.” Shouyou’s eyebrows shoot up, as though he wasn’t actually expecting Tobio to admit it. Tobio splays his hand flat along Shouyou’s chest, running his palm down and over the contour of Shouyou’s ribs. Shouyou shivers, breath stuttering. “I’m _not_ going to miss the days before we see each other, though, where you spend the entire day sending me scandalous texts that get me half hard in the locker room before practice. You damn tease.”

Shouyou sticks his tongue out complacently. Tobio rolls his eyes and strokes Shouyou a few more times as his other hand wanders lower, teasing the seam between his leg and groin.

“And, of course, I’ll miss sex. But, more importantly, I’ll miss being able to make you feel good.” Tobio pauses, pursing his lips. His voice drops in volume, but the words still ring clearly through the open air. “I know I’m not the best with words. So I’ll miss being able to show you how much you matter to me.” 

Cheeks burning, he chances a glance up at Shouyou. Shouyou’s eyes are full and shining, his mouth wiggling at the corners. He brings a hand up to comb through Tobio’s hair, his other hand clutched over his heart. Tobio looks back down quickly, overcome by a wave of an unnamable emotion that slides through his veins and coats them like honey—sweet, warm, and lingering. He leans over and gives Shouyou a final kiss to his tip before he lets go, his hands both now wrapping around Shouyou’s quads.

“I’ll miss your legs.” Tobio slides his hands up and down Shouyou’s thighs, kneading appreciatively at the muscle. “Your crazy high jumps that can either lure away or leap over any blockers.” He runs his thumbs along the line of his tailor’s muscle, eliciting a shiver. “Or even the way you jump outside of games, when you’re excited or annoying me on purpose or trying to prove a point.” Tobio shuffles down the bed until he’s bent over his knees that are tucked to his chest. He places a kiss to the inside of each of Shouyou’s thighs, the muscles bunching at the pinpoint touch.

“You’ve worked so hard to build them up strong. And now, you can fly the highest,” Tobio echoes his sentiment from their first year of high school, and Shouyou’s eyebrows raise up, a hint of recognition in his gaze. 

_You can fly even higher_. While Tobio wasn’t wrong back then, he wasn’t fully right either. No—Shouyou’s never aimed only to fly _higher_ , but the _highest_. And while he still hasn’t been called to the National Team, Tobio knows he will be soon, once 2020 creeps closer. Next Olympics, it’ll be him and Shouyou at the top of the world. 

Smiling at the thought, Tobio scoots further down the bed, sitting seiza, toes nearly at its edge. His hands slowly rub up and down Shouyou’s knees to his calves to his ankles and back, appreciating the soft skin but hard muscle that runs beneath his palms. He leans forward and plants a kiss to both of his shins, along the sharp bone that runs down the middle.

Shifting forward, Tobio slides his fingers beneath Shouyou’s calves and lifts them a few inches back until Shouyou’s knees are in the air. Tobio’s hands run down his legs for a final time and come to cup his heels. Shouyou’s calluses from Brazil still haven’t faded completely, the skin hard and rough beneath his palms. Tobio brings his hands to wrap around the outer edge of his feet, thumbs rubbing circles into their balls. Shouyou squirms in his grip, ever sensitive. 

“You know I’m ticklish there, Bakagayama.” Shouyou’s eyebrows pinch and he pouts, dramatic as ever. Tobio stops his ministrations and brings a leg up to his shoulder. He turns his head and presses a delicate kiss to Shouyou’s inner ankle, then brings his other leg up to mirror the action.

“I’ll miss your feet for keeping you grounded when you’re not out there flying. For being the stable base that lets you be who you are and do the amazing things that you do.” Tobio feels himself flush at his own words: who knew he could be so poetic and flowery, given the opportunity?

As he lowers Shouyou’s legs from his shoulders, Tobio realizes that he’s at the end—he’s told Shouyou of his love, from head to toe. The reason why he did so in the first place rushes back to him—Tobio’s leaving Japan soon, leaving _Shouyou_ soon, for _months_ —and he feels his heart ache. Tobio looks up from where he’s loosely gripping Shouyou’s ankles, and another surge of emotion wells up in his chest at the sight. He climbs up the bed to take a closer look.

Shouyou’s biting his lip, an arm flung over his eyes. But, with the way his mouth is trembling at the corners, it’s not hard to guess what Shouyou’s trying to hide. Tobio brings a hand up and grips Shouyou’s wrist, tugging lightly. Shouyou resists at first, but, with a shaky exhale, his arm relaxes, and Tobio easily moves it to the side. 

Despite predicting the scene, nothing could’ve prepared Tobio for the sight of tears lining Shouyou’s lashes, the red concentrated around his eyes and cheeks. The tears have yet to fall—they remain pooled in his eyes and reflect back the yellow lights of the street below. Tobio feels the weight in his chest surge up into his throat and leak out of his eyes, stinging at the corners. Unlike Shouyou, though, Tobio can’t hold back, and the tears begin to drip, drip, drip onto Shouyou’s face, painting his countenance like a canvas.

“Fuck,” Tobio says, the back of his hand swiping furiously over his eyes. But the tears don’t stop, and Tobio eventually gives up, turning his attention back to Shouyou. “I’m just gonna miss you so much. Every part.”

Tobio sees a single tear escape Shouyou’s eye before he’s pulled into a crushing hug, Shouyou’s arms wrapping fiercely around his torso. Tobio’s face crashes into the pillow behind Shouyou’s head, and he slides his arms around Shouyou’s back as well, digging his fingers into his warm skin, committing the feeling to memory. Tobio’s tears continue to leak into the pillow, and he can feel a wet spot pooling at the side of his hair from Shouyou’s tears, as well.

They sit there in silence for a few more moments, only the sound of their stuttering breaths filling the room. Tobio relishes in the scent of Shouyou’s hair—the mix of his shampoo and that quality unique to Shouyou and only Shouyou a familiar and cherished combination. 

After a minute, Shouyou starts shifting beneath him. The first time it happens, Tobio just hugs him tighter, unwilling to break their embrace just yet. But the second time Shouyou wiggles, something warm and hard pokes against Tobio’s stomach. Smirking, Tobio props himself up on his forearm, staring down at Shouyou’s pinched expression. “Need something?”

Shouyou’s frown deepens, and he puffs his cheeks out in retaliation. “We were having a moment. The Little Giant can wait.”

Tobio bats him on the side of the head. “I told you not to call it that, oh my God.”

Shouyou huffs a laugh, but then starts pouting again. “Meany-yama. Being so cruel to me the last time he’s gonna see me for _months_.” Shouyou looks down between his legs. “Isn’t he the worst, Little Giant?”

Tobio rolls his eyes, but his throat tightens reflexively at Shouyou’s words. But Shouyou says the truth with no ill will, with none of the same weight that his admissions earlier in the night held. His words are teasing, not broken. Relief washes through Tobio like a cresting wave, soaking his bones with warmth. It seems like his plan to _show_ Shouyou maybe actually worked. 

But they still have to deal with The Little Giant (Tobio sighs to himself when the thought pops into his head, resigning himself to the cruel fate of that _terrible_ nickname). And even though Shouyou’s a bit of a health nut these days, even he deserves dessert on special occasions. A scheming grin splits across his face as he thinks of what tonight’s cherry on top will be.

“Shut up.” Tobio sniffles and leans over to grab a tissue from the bedside table. “I’m about to be the _best_.”

Shouyou looks up from his crotch, still pouting. “Oh? Do tell.”

Tobio grabs two tissues and plops one on Shouyou’s face, then runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll show. You showered before coming over, yeah?” Shouyou nods. “Good. Turn over, ass up.”

Shouyou’s eyes sparkle to life. “So vulgar, Kageyama-kun,” he says, wiping at his nose before flipping onto his stomach. Tobio rolls his eyes and takes his tissue, climbing off the bed to head towards the bathroom. Blowing his own nose, he tosses the tissues into the wastebin. Then he wets a washcloth with warm water and fills up a cup with mouthwash—their standard routine before what comes next. While some might call it very un-sexy to interrupt sexy times for any reason, Tobio thinks that lacking hygiene is un-sexier, and Shouyou agrees.

Tobio quickly makes his way back in the room, setting the cup down on the bedside dresser and grabbing the lube from the top drawer. He shucks off his pants and briefs, then makes his way to the end of the bed, where Shouyou’s pert bum waits pretty for him up in the air. Climbing onto the mattress, Tobio taps one of his cheeks with the lube bottle and huffs a laugh as it jiggles. 

“Get on with it, you twelve-year-old,” Shouyou huffs.

Tobio brings the warm washcloth to Shouyou’s hole, rubbing light circles into the skin. “If I’m twelve, then you’re, like, six.”

Shouyou blows a raspberry. Before he can reply, though, Tobio cuts in, “Thank you for proving my point.”

In his position, Tobio can’t see Shouyou’s face, but he’s sure his signature pout has wormed its way back onto his features. With a final swipe down, Tobio folds the cloth in on itself and places it at the foot of the bed—they’ll be needing it again later, after all. He drops the lube to the side of the mattress, and his gut churns in anticipation for what’s next.

Tobio scoots his way forward until his groin is pressed flush against Shouyou’s cheeks; he bites back a groan at how the pressure feels against his filling cock. Planting his hands along Shouyou’s upper ribs, he runs his palms smoothly along the planes of Shouyou’s back. From his shoulder blades to his waist and back up again, Tobio touches every bit of skin that he can, soaking in the way Shouyou’s muscles smooth under his ministrations.

After a few more cycles, Tobio leans over, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. His hands come to rest at Shouyou’s hips as Tobio trails kisses down his spine. Shouyou wiggles beneath his touch, ass backing up into Tobio’s crotch; Tobio’s breath hitches as he presses his lips in between the dimples of Shouyou’s back. “So impatient,” he mumbles against Shouyou’s skin.

“I’m _eager_ , there’s a difference!” Tobio blows a puff of cold air directly on Shouyou’s hole, and Shouyou yelps at the shift in temperature. “Teasey-yama. Meany-yama.” He whines like a puppy when Tobio blows on him again, this time a cloud of hot air. 

Tobio reaches to his side and scoops up the bottle of lube. He warms a dollop between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his thumb lightly against Shouyou’s hole. The muscle clenches against his touch, as though trying to draw the digit in further. Tobio teases him for a while, thumb rubbing circles along his rim at varying pressures. Shouyou starts scooting back, chasing the touch for more, so Tobio puts his other hand on his ass, holding him in place.

Tobio waits a few more seconds, drawing out Shouyou’s patience until it’s nearly snapped, then dives in, pressing his tongue flat against his hole. Gasping, Shouyou’s hips jump off the mattress at the sudden switch, and Tobio feels the corner of his lips turn up as he licks up slowly, until the tip of his tongue passes the entrance. Tobio continues licking, the first few strokes slow and steady, but quickly speeding up. Shouyou’s breath is coming out heavy now, his back arching absurdly. Tobio lets up on his pace, now lapping at Shouyou with more measured strokes. After the final sweep upwards, Tobio presses a kiss to Shouyou’s puckering rim. Ass clenching down, Shouyou _whines_ , and Tobio hums, letting the vibrations ring against Shouyou’s hole. Shouyou shivers, panting out a string of labored, hot breaths. 

As Tobio takes a moment to catch his own breath, he runs his fingernails from the inside to the outside of Shouyou’s cheeks, stretching his hole wider. He takes a peak around Shouyou’s side and notes that Shouyou’s dick is nice and flushed, still dripping with precome despite how long it’s been hard. A sense of pride sweeps through Tobio at the sight. He’ll certainly deal with it soon, but first wants to fully focus on the task at hand. And, a bit sadistically, he hopes he’ll have Shouyou _begging_ for Tobio to touch him by the time he’s done with his ass.

Skin prickling with anticipation, Tobio scratches his fingernails over Shouyou’s cheeks once more before dipping back in. He runs his tongue flat over him, licking up, but on the down stroke, he switches to the back of his tongue. Tobio knows from experience that the back is both wetter and smoother _and_ warmer—an extremely satisfying combination. Shouyou jolts at the change, then presses up on his forearms, pushing his ass back into the touch. Tobio grabs both of his asscheeks and _squeezes_ , fingernails digging into the flesh in a line of crescents—a silent command. Shouyou huffs a breath of disappointment before settling back on the bed.

Tobio licks up and down in the same manner for the next few strokes, eventually switching to a more circular pattern just around Shouyou’s rim. Mouth drying out, he squirts a dollop of lube onto his tongue. When he brings the cold liquid over his hole, Shouyou moans, the sound reverberating in his chest.

“F-Feels so good, Tobio,” Shouyou pants, the mattress muffling his words. Tobio feels a tingle run down his spine at the praise, pooling in his groin. He starts to knead his palms into Shouyou’s ass; if he lets them rest, he’ll be tempted to grab Shouyou’s dick, and he can’t give him that just yet.

Tobio keeps licking at him until his mouth feels dry again. Shouyou’s breaths come out in little pants, with the occasional long exhale—as though he’s trying to get his breath under control—leaving him as well. Tobio relishes in the fact that these longer notes don’t last: he either stutters mid-breath or immediately slips back into the punctuated puffs after one. Oh, how Tobio loves to take him apart, seam by seam. Tobio’s dick somehow gets impossibly harder between his legs.

“Tobioooooo,” Shouyou whines, hips shifting back and forth. “Stop teasing.”

Tobio leaves a final wet stripe along Shouyou before backing away. After a moment—the air crackling with tension—Tobio replies, “No,” and blows a long, cold breath of air on Shouyou’s hole. Shouyou clenches and keens, a high _aah!_ falling from his lips.

Tobio presses a kiss just under his entrance and continues to trail kisses lower, pushing Shouyou’s ass forward so that his thighs are more accessible. He rakes a hand down Shouyou’s hamstring, eliciting a groan. Shouyou’s core trembles with the exertion of holding himself up as Tobio leaves wet kisses along his inner thighs. Tobio finds a nice patch of skin, just inwards of the bottom of Shouyou’s ass, and _sucks_. A rushed breath leaves Shouyou’s lips, hissing between his teeth. Tobio continues sucking, only letting up for a second at a time to breathe, until he’s sure he’s left a mark. He backs away and surveys his work—a perfect little patch of red. 

Satisfied, Tobio makes his way back up, finding the lube again by blindly patting at the sheets. He uncaps the bottle, squeezing a hefty glob into his palm. His tongue swipes over the pool for extra ammunition before diving back in. Then he makes his way between his own legs, ready to relieve the pressure that’s been building there. His hand wraps around his dick as he pokes past Shouyou’s rim; Tobio has to pause his tongue for a moment as a jolt of electricity seizes him from the contact.

He quickly settles into a rhythm, his tongue drawing circles inside of Shouyou as his hand pumps up and down. The breathy mewls he’s ripping out of Shouyou only escalate his own pleasure, his fist running over his head before his thumb presses down into his slit. Tobio lets out a groan, gut coiling tighter.

Tobio lays off on himself for a moment, bringing his wet hand to skim against Shouyou’s perineum. An airy breath leaves Shouyou at the touch, and Tobio draws lazy circles up and down the area with his damp finger. After a few moments, Tobio pulls out his tongue and presses his lips around Shouyou’s entrance. Then, not missing a beat, Tobio pushes three fingers against Shouyou’s taint as he _sucks_. Shouyou’s thighs spasm as he moans, his hole clenching down at the same time.

“Tobio, _please_ ,” Shouyou’s voice cracks as Tobio sucks again. He can feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves, his desire for release painfully evident. While they often switch who’s giving or receiving, Tobio loves when he’s in charge—especially when he can get Shouyou to lose control like this.

“You could’ve touched yourself, you know,” Tobio says, his mouth still mostly on Shouyou. His lips vibrate against his entrance, and Shouyou grunts, rocking his hips back.

“Y-you know that’s no fun,” Shouyou pants. “Now touch me.” Tobio glares even though Shouyou can’t see him. Bossy brat. But Tobio’s teased him enough, and Shouyou’s clearly reaching his limit.

Tobio sits back on his heels and rolls his neck a few times before grabbing the bottle of lube. He squirts some into his hand before rubbing his palms together to warm it up. Shouyou rocks on his forearms impatiently, throwing a glare over his shoulder. Tobio only raises an eyebrow—if he wants it so badly, then he can wait. Shouyou sticks his tongue out at him before plopping his forehead on his forearms, grumbling to himself. Tobio rolls his eyes. Why did he choose to date the most dramatic person in the world again?

Hands sufficiently warm, Tobio settles back between Shouyou’s legs and reaches around, hand finding Shouyou’s balls. He takes one between his fingers as he runs his tongue over Shouyou’s entrance. His rim flares as he groans, his core flexing. Tobio brings his free hand to his own dick, pumping up a steady rhythm. Coordinating three body parts at once is rather difficult, so he continues to simply lick at Shouyou’s hole as he mainly focuses on his hands. Leaning forward, Tobio cups Shouyou’s entire ball sack and squeezes gently; Shouyou huffs like the wind’s been knocked out of him. The sound shoots straight to Tobio’s dick, his eyes squeezing shut as he runs his fist under his head.

Tobio finally moves his hand to wrap around the base of Shouyou’s dick, and Shouyou nearly cries in relief. His grip tightens as he strokes forward, Shouyou’s length running smoothly under his fingers. He reaches the tip and moves to start at the base again, dragging the whole process out just to watch Shouyou squirm. His tongue moves in time with his strokes, and Shouyou’s entire body goes taut at the combination. Oh, he’s close. Tobio’s grip unwittingly tightens around his own dick as he relishes in the revelation.

Tobio retracts his tongue as he focuses on stroking himself and Shouyou in time, wrists jerking back and forth over their heads. Shouyou’s really panting now, his entire back lined with sweat. Tobio cranes his head to the side to peak at his expression and swears at the sight—Shouyou’s eyes are shut tight as his mouth hangs open, a trail of spit falling from his lips to the mattress.

“Look at me,” Tobio says, the need to have Shouyou’s gaze on him ripping through him like a forest fire. He punctuates his statement by thumbing over Shouyou’s slit, and Shouyou groans as he glances over his shoulder. Tobio feels the coil in his gut wind tighter as Shouyou’s eye meets his—the rich browns as brilliantly foggy and out of it as he expected.

“Shit,” Tobio swears, and before he can even process what he’s doing, he leans back down and sucks on Shouyou’s hole again. Gasping, Shouyou’s body stiffens—every muscle going taut—before snapping. He comes hard, long streaks painting the sheets with white. Shouyou’s groan is broken into staccato beats as his breath speeds up impossibly quicker, airy and wet and desperate. Tobio works him through it, his hand moving from the less sensitive head to his base, but still providing friction. He pumps himself aggressively fast, though, his own need for release hastened by the sight of Shouyou unravelled beneath him.

Shouyou rolls onto his back, a final line of come dribbling out of his dick as his hand pushes his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. Tobio groans at the new perspective—Shouyou’s heaving chest and red face filling Tobio’s veins with a fresh wave of desire. But then Shouyou’s lashes flutter, eyelids lifting to reveal his chocolate brown irises and dilated pupils, and Tobio knows he’s a goner. He comes then, a string of curses leaving him as his release streaks over Shouyou, leaving a mess on his skin. Tobio makes the mistake of keeping his gaze on Shouyou’s face, for Shouyou smiles—the barest hint of teeth peeking through as his eyes crinkle at the corners—and Tobio sees white as a final surge of pleasure crests over him.

Tobio collapses into the mattress, with only just enough cognizance to avoid falling face first into the smattering of come. Eyes closed, he takes a few deep breaths, letting the warmth of the afterglow run through his body like maple syrup. But, sooner than he’d like, he’s snapped out of his trance, something blunt hitting him in the sternum. He cracks open his eyes to see Shouyou’s shin in his face, his heel rapidly tapping at his chest. Tobio glares up at him, who’s glaring back. 

“Why didn’t you wait and let _me_ do anything?” Shouyou whines, his face scrunching in displeasure. “I wanted to suck you off.”

Tobio rolls over and awkwardly reaches for the washcloth at the end of the bed. Once it’s secured, he turns back to Shouyou, wiping off the come on his thigh. “You can do that tomorrow morning.” Tonight was about Shouyou, after all.

Shouyou makes a face but doesn’t reply as Tobio sits up and starts wiping him down properly. Once they’re both cleaned off, Tobio flings the washcloth into the hamper across the room before reaching for the mouthwash on the side table. He tips the cup back, gurgling as Shouyou eyes him coyly. Tobio rolls his eyes, continuing his mental count to thirty. After what feels like an eternity, he spits back into the cup, hastily placing it back on the nightstand. Shouyou’s arms are already outstretched as Tobio practically tackles him, hands coming up to cup Shouyou’s face. Their lips meet, and Tobio can’t help but smile into the kiss, overcome with adoration for his adorable but dramatic gremlin of a boyfriend. Shouyou smiles, too, and Tobio pecks at his mouth a few more times before tucking his head into the crook of Shouyou’s neck.

As Shouyou’s running his hands through Tobio’s hair, reality hits Tobio over the head like a baseball bat. Fuck. They were supposed to be packing—and finish packing tonight. He bites back a sigh, not wanting to rattle Shouyou. Tobio thinks about the events of the night leading to this moment—of Shouyou’s face when he uttered the words _I’m just going to miss you._ After everything Tobio had done tonight to reassure Shouyou that he felt the exact same, switching gears back to packing right now just doesn’t seem appropriate.

Fuck it. He’ll throw shit in random boxes tomorrow—most are just going to be sitting in his house in Miyagi for the next while anyways. Tobio buries his nose into Shouyou’s neck and inhales, the familiar scent calming.

Right now, Shouyou needs him, and he needs Shouyou. Everything else in the world can wait.

After a few more minutes, Tobio props himself up off of Shouyou’s chest, groaning. “We should get ready for bed.” Shouyou nods and cranes his neck up, leaving a chaste kiss on Tobio’s lips. When they break apart, Tobio leans forward, capturing Shouyou’s lips and lingering there.

When Tobio leans back a hair for air, Shouyou mumbles against his lips, “I thought you said we should get ready for bed.”

“One more,” Tobio says, then kisses him again. Shouyou hums a high note, sinking further into the pillows.

Tobio’s an honest man, so he does fully sit up after they break apart. His arms reach towards the sky to stretch out his back as Shouyou rolls to the right, feet thumping loudly against the floor. They make quick work of the bedroom, stripping the sheets and throwing on new ones, then head to the door. Tobio shoots a sour look at the stacks of shit on his desk, lamenting tomorrow-Tobio’s fate, before walking to the bathroom.

Tobio wets another towel—with mild soap, this time—and wipes Shouyou up and down as Shouyou brushes his teeth. Shouyou giggles when Tobio skims over his more sensitive spots, and Tobio can’t help but feel endeared at the white toothpaste lining his mouth and the spark in his eyes. He hides his flush behind his bangs, bending to wipe around his groin and legs. When Tobio wipes under Shouyou’s ass, something tugs at the back of his mind and falls loose. 

“By the way,” Tobio starts. “You were like... really clean down there.” While a wipe down before rimming can make the experience more pleasant for the giver, normally to get _squeaky_ clean like Shouyou was, there’s a bit more prep in the shower involved. Tobio feels Shouyou look down at him, and he glances up suspiciously in return. Shouyou’s smirk takes up his whole face, mirth flashing behind his eyes.

“It’s the last day before you leave for _months_ , you think I wasn’t gonna milk a rimjob out of you if you hadn’t offered first?”

Tobio rolls his eyes and looks back down, focusing on the task at hand. The cheeky little shit. The worst part is that Tobio _had_ wanted to eat him out tonight, though circumstances had it so that sexy times ended up happening much earlier than Tobio had planned. He might’ve been dense to Shouyou’s feelings, but even he knew that tonight was their last night to have sex for a while. And he knew that one of Shouyou’s favorite, low equipment activities was being rimmed. It was going to be Tobio’s gracious parting gift to Shouyou. At that, a prickle of anxiety floods him—shit, was the shift from reassurance to sex too fast, though? 

As if sensing his spiral, Shouyou brings a hand to his head, combing through his hair. “You delivered well, Hungryama-kun. Heh.” Tobio scowls, slapping him on the thigh. Shouyou laughs, hand curling in Tobio’s locks. He then turns and spits into the sink, the sound of water following soon after.

Finished wiping, Tobio tries to stand up, but Shouyou’s hand in his hair stays firmly on his head, keeping him down. He glances up, curious, but Shouyou’s gazing forward, staring off into the hallway.

“Thank you,” Shouyou says, “for everything tonight.”

Tobio waits, but he doesn’t continue, nor does he look down. His hand continues combing through Tobio’s hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. Tobio exhales, a soft, light breath, and leans forward. He presses a kiss to the seam between Shouyou’s leg and torso. Then he moves to stand, and this time, Shouyou lets him, hand slipping off his head like water.

Tobio sets the washcloth on the counter and cups Shouyou’s face in his hands. He leans down as Shouyou rises up, their lips meeting in the middle. It’s a tender kiss, and Tobio’s stomach flips as warmth sweeps through his veins. They break apart, and Tobio opens his eyes to gaze at Shouyou. He makes sure that Shouyou’s looking back before he speaks.

“I love you,” Tobio says. “And I’m going to miss you.” He squeezes Shouyou’s cheeks. “So much.” Tobio’s face flushes with heat, and an odd sensation creeps up his spine. They’ve said “love” to each other before, but, for some reason, right now feels as terrifying and exhilarating as it did the first time. 

Shouyou’s eyes widen a smidgen, and he puts his hands over Tobio’s. They’re warm. “I love you, too.” He doesn’t say the last part, but he doesn’t need to. Tobio knows. The admission he wrangled out of him earlier is enough.

Tobio presses a kiss to Shouyou’s forehead before turning to the sink, grabbing his own toothbrush. They switch—with Tobio now brushing and Shouyou wiping him down. Tobio runs his free hand through Shouyou’s hair as they continue in a comfortable silence.

With both of them squeaky clean all around, they head back to the bedroom. The events of tonight are starting to sink into Tobio, his mind and body fuzzy with drowsiness. Shouyou looks the same, a yawn escaping his mouth.

“Do you wanna keep packing?” Shouyou asks as he pulls on his discarded briefs. Tobio shakes his head, pulling a fresh pair out of his drawers.

“No,” he says, slipping the underwear over his legs. “ I just want you.”

Shouyou lets out a whine, coming around the bed to hug Tobio from behind. “You big sap. Stop it. I’m gonna cry again.”

Tobio blushes and kicks him lightly in the shin. “It’s not my fault that you’re like this. Now get off so we can sleep.”

Shouyou sighs dramatically but drops his arms, turning on his heel towards the bed. As Tobio starts to follow, Shouyou stops, his gaze resting on something at the headboard. Tobio follows his line of sight and sees the jersey that started it all draped over a pillow. Did Shouyou do that as they were cleaning up? As if reading his mind, Shouyou walks over to the jersey and picks it up. Then, he gracefully balls it up and throws it at Tobio’s face.

Tobio sputters, clawing at the fabric obscuring his vision. When he can see again, Shouyou’s in his space, standing on his tiptoes to butt his head into Tobio’s nose. “Wear it tonight.”

Tobio tucks in his chin away from Shouyou’s assault. “Why?” Shouyou rolls his eyes, as if Tobio’s being the dumb one. “So that it smells the most like you before tomorrow.”

Tobio wants to point out that it probably already smells like him, considering that it’s been sitting in his closet full of his clothes, but he bites his tongue. It’s a tiny request, and Shouyou doesn’t ask for much. (Unless he’s in bed or on the court. Then he’s a demanding little shit.) 

Tobio pulls the jersey on, his arms popping out of the holes, his head in tandem. It’s comfortable, but it’s an unfamiliar feeling for a sleep shirt. Shouyou reaches up to smooth down his hair before pulling him down by the collar for a kiss. Tobio gladly complies, melting into Shouyou’s lips.

They tuck themselves into bed, Tobio snug and secure in Shouyou’s arms, just where Shouyou likes him. (Tobio likes being the little spoon, too, but he’ll never admit it aloud.) Shouyou presses a kiss to Tobio’s shoulder as they settle amongst the pillows. Tobio brings Shouyou’s hand on his chest to his lips, kissing his knuckles lightly.

Shouyou must’ve been more tired than Tobio realized, because soon enough, Tobio can hear soft snores coming from behind him. Tobio’s still a bit wired from the night, though, the memories from tonight feeling particularly heavy. He thinks he’ll curse himself forever for the night’s first misstep—how he failed to realize Shouyou’s mounting feelings until they snapped. And Shouyou thanked him for his attempts at comfort, but Tobio still feels like he could’ve done better, been more eloquent or coherent with his words. Tobio sighs, turning around in Shouyou’s arms.

Shouyou babbles something, but his eyes remain closed—just as he lives life _very_ awake, he sleeps through the night _very_ asleep. A line of drool is already running from his open mouth to the pillow, and Tobio feels a wave of warmth sweep through him from his head to his toes. What happened tonight certainly isn’t what he planned or expected, but he’s glad that he got Shouyou to open up, that nothing will be weighing him down anymore when they part tomorrow. Tobio could’ve done better, but he _always_ feels like he could’ve done better. And, according to Shouyou, what he gave tonight was enough. Tobio is enough.

Tobio presses a kiss along Shouyou’s hairline, then breathes in. The smell of home mixes in his lungs and diffuses through his veins, a warmth following in its wake.

God, Tobio really will miss him _so_ much.

He throws his arm atop Shouyou’s side and hugs him closer. Shouyou mumbles again, but it’s followed by a _loud_ snore, and Tobio snorts lightly. Gremlin boyfriend.

Tobio breathes in again, eyes slipping shut. He’ll miss Shouyou, but right now, he doesn’t have to: Shouyou’s right here, and he’s not going anywhere for now.

Tobio doesn’t know the next time he’ll have this—Shouyou’s scent and shape in his arms, cradling the world. But he does know that if he has someone to miss, it means that he has someone to come back to. Because to Tobio, a person, not a place, is home. Tobio might end up back in Japan or Shouyou might meet him in Italy. Knowing Shouyou, though, he’ll probably end up in a foreign league soon, too. Maybe they’ll have to meet in the middle.

How lucky Tobio is, to have such a mutable home—a home he’ll always find a way back to, or the other way around, no matter where either of them end up.

As Tobio’s mind powers down, his fears about the past and the future slip away as he holds the Shouyou that’s here right now. The Shouyou that he’ll wake up with tomorrow.

With that final thought, the last of his tension slides off of his shoulders, Tobio drifts to sleep, warm and content. 

**Author's Note:**

> :______)) kagehina are so in l*ve,,,,, only for them would i look at the prompt “uniform” and automatically think angsty/tender thoughts rather than horny ones (those came LATER). oh, also, for all those that successfully got to the end....... 🏅🏅🏅 here is a medal for your mental fortitude. reading 9k of plot before porn for a one shot. i commend you; i could never be so strong  
> if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos and/or a comment--this was quite the challenge to write, and I’d love to know your thoughts!!  
> come hang with me on [twitter dot com](https://twitter.com/rinpanna) where i scream into the void approx thrice a day and rt a bunch of hq content in between. also, if you enjoyed this fic, please consider giving it a [retweet](https://twitter.com/rinpanna/status/1351223080090218503)!! <3


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